


Dance Your Way Home

by justbecauseyoubelievesomething



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Almost Kiss, Alternate Universe - Historical, Angst with a Happy Ending, Christmas, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Found Family, I apologize because I have no idea how to write historical fiction, Jane Austen-ish, Sunrises, holiday party, spacekru
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 23:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21957676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justbecauseyoubelievesomething/pseuds/justbecauseyoubelievesomething
Summary: “We need to get you home. You’re freezing.”Home. She has no home.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Echo
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18
Collections: Chopped: Holiday Trope Exchange 1.0





	Dance Your Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Chopped: Holiday Fic Exchange 2019! The tropes I was asked to include were:  
> 1\. Historical AU  
> 2\. Almost Kiss  
> 3\. Holiday Party  
> 4\. Sunrises
> 
> I hope my giftee enjoys this! This is the first historical fiction of any kind I've written, so I hope that I was able to fulfill the prompt alright! It's a little shorter than I had hoped due to my struggles with the setting, but overall I had a great time writing it! Happy Holidays!

The colorful skirts spin around her like giant butterflies, floating and hovering around her ankles before dashing up and around in a flurry of silk swirls and taffeta rainbows. Echo blinks distractedly, pulling herself from the kaleidoscope of dancers parading around the center of the floor. Christmas finery adorns every spare inch of the large hall. Cascades of greenery tied back with jaunty red and white ribbons send a fresh pine smell through the house, in sharp contrast to the oppressive warmth that comes from the dozens of bodies packed together.

Echo stumbles awkwardly back towards the side of the room, one hand grasping at a stitch in her side. Despite herself, she lets a small smile creep across her face. As a young girl she never would have imagined witnessing such a dance, much less joining in herself. Yet here she stands.

“Enjoying the party, Miss Azgeda?”

The smooth, deep voice at her shoulder is more than familiar and is enough to wipe the smile from her face before she turns to face her host with perfect composure.

“Very much so, Mr. Blake,” she says, arch politeness drenching her words.

The young Mr. Blake gives her a raised eyebrow that all but shouts his disapproval.

“Surely, you can’t be finished dancing already?” he questions, a hint of command filtering through his friendly tone. “The night is young.”

Echo bites her tongue, swallowing the snappish response that rises all too quickly.

“I am just taking a short rest, Mr. Blake,” she reassures him. “Perhaps a drink…?”

She lets her words linger for a second longer than necessary, just enough so he is forced to assume the smile of the gracious host and disappear into the crowd to fetch her a new drink. Echo takes the brief moment to make her escape, threading her own path through the throng.

“Echo!”

The girl who grasps her elbow and pulls her aside is glowing in wonderment. “You are here!”

The joy of the night swallows Echo again quickly. “Raven!”

She doesn’t have to assume any sort of politeness as she yanks her friend into an embrace that knocks the breath out of them both. Raven pulls away with a laugh and tugs a little uncomfortably at the stiff material of her evening gown. Echo can sympathize. The cheap gowns that pass for their Sunday best are cumbersome at best.

“I thought you weren’t going to be caught dead at one of the Blake Christmas parties,” Raven teases gently, poking her friend.

Echo takes the ribbing in stride. “Well, Mr. Blake made a convincing case. And considering that I used to practically run this estate, I felt it was high time.”

“Well, I’m more than pleased to see you,” Raven says, squeezing Echo’s arm softly. “I was worried about coming without an escort.”

“That’s never stopped you before,” Echo snorts before she can stop herself.

Raven’s smile dims a bit and she shifts her weight awkwardly. “Yes, well…”

Echo’s gaze is drawn almost against her will to the simple cane in Raven’s hand and the uneven stance she’s adopted. 

“Raven… I heard about the accident but I didn’t know…”

Raven brushes her aside. “I don’t need sympathy, Echo. You know that better than anyone.”

She knows all too well. So instead of lingering on the moment she offers Raven her arm with a smooth wink and smile and Raven takes it appreciatively.

As she leads Raven around the perimeter of the room, she can almost forget about the stiffness of the entire affair. Almost. The laughter of the rich and well-to-do surrounds her and she feels her hackles go up instinctively.

If these people had even an inkling of who she was and where she came from, they would run from the room. Or worse.

Echo shakes her head trying to keep her smile plastered in place as she wills herself to slip back into that place between contentment and joy. She quickly locates Monty and Harper, stationed near the prominent piano forte. Harper is beaming at the stunning instrument, fingers probably itching to test it out.

“Going to play us something?” Raven asks as they draw near. Harper spins in surprise, a sunny smile lighting her face. 

“My friends, my friends,” she cries, pulling Echo and Raven into her arms. Echo grins, tucking her face into Harper’s shoulder. At least with these people, her strange little family, she can be herself.

Monty is grinning from ear to ear as well, but he restrains himself a little better than his betrothed.

“It is very good to see you both again.”

“It’s good to see you too, Monty,” Echo murmurs. The dancers have started back up in earnest again and the swirling colors and patterns are making her dizzy.

“Bellamy said the party is going to go all night,” Harper giggles. Her blond hair catches the lamp light as she spins, her entire body practically glowing with excitement. “Dancing right until dawn.”

“He would say that,” Echo grumbles.

Raven clears her throat. “Any sign of Mr. Murphy and Emori?”

Monty laughs, a hearty sound that makes Echo feel warm down to her toes. “Last I saw of them, they were arguing over the time they planned to head home for the night. I think I saw Emori pull Murphy into a closet to resolve the matter.”

Raven snorted as Harper tried unsuccessfully to stifle a laugh and even Echo had to smirk.

“They never change, do they?”

“Would you want them to?” Raven asks, cheerily.

Echo pretends to think it over and then gives a little shake of her head. “I think I need my friends just the way they are.”

The party draws on into the night. The dancing continues, sometimes at a frenetic pace that makes Echo’s lungs tight, sometimes slow and stately, partners’ hands barely touching as they prance back and forth.

Echo’s slippers are tight around her swollen feet by midnight and as the hours tick into the early morning, she eagerly slips away from her cluster of friends to catch a breath of cool air.

The serving halls are as familiar to her as the back of her hand. She weaves through them to the small veranda just outside the kitchens. In the spring and summer, her vantage point would have boasted a stunning view of the Blake estate, stretching for miles of both farmland and wooded hills. Tonight, a gentle blanket of snow covers the rolling hills, giving her a view of a veritable winter wonderland. The moon light catches the frozen plains, sending glittering beams of light dancing across her gaze.

“Leaving so soon?”

“Mr. Blake,” Echo spins defensively. He watches, dark brows knit in thought.

Her first instinct is to apologize for her presence. Her second is to lift her head high and walk away without a word.

So instead she does neither.

“I just needed a breath of fresh air.”

“Ah.”

She prays that he will leave, but instead he steps up beside her, arms tucked behind his back.

“Well you picked the finest place on the property for that.”

“I know,” she shoots back before she can stop herself.

Mr. Blake blinks at her for a moment. “Yes, you would.”

They fall into silence. The cold wind scatters goosebumps across her bare arms and neck, but Echo bites her lip in stolid refusal. She will not be the first to budge. Not ever again.

“I am glad you came, Echo,” Mr. Blake says, finally.

The use of her name breaks through her walls just enough for her to glance over at him again.

“I was afraid that… I might never see you again,” he says slowly. Carefully.

Echo scoffs before she can bite her tongue. Mr. Blake whips his head over to glare at her.

“You doubt my sincerity?”

“Forgive me, but yes,” Echo says reluctantly. “I am a glorified servant, Mr. Blake. The years I spent here were little more than slavery. The day I left this house, I considered myself to finally be a free woman.”

“And yet you’ve returned.” He cocks his head. “Why?”

Her tongue catches in her mouth. His eyes feel like coals burning against her neck. “I…”

Mr. Blake sighs and looks away again, as her cheeks burn. “Echo, I am sorry. The way I treated you was irreprehensible. I thought it charity but I see now it was a despicable act of power. I can’t change the past, but I thought I would extend a token of peace.”

Her chest tightens. An offer of peace. A stilted apology. Something to make him feel whole after everything that had happened between them.

“Do you remember that night, five years ago?” he asks, oblivious to her racing thoughts. “I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen.”

“I was,” Echo says without thinking and Bellamy has the audacity to smile at her.

He takes a step closer, eyes glowing. She can feel the warmth radiating from his hand as he gently lays it on her forearm.

“You still are,” he says fervently.

Somehow she’s turned to meet him as he leans forward. A kiss. That’s all it would be. A kiss.

She thought of him as Bellamy. Not Mr. Blake. Bellamy.

She jumps back as if she had been burned.

Mr. Blake snatchs his hand back, a brief moment of hurt flashing across his face.

“You must think me a fool, Mr. Blake,” Echo laughs bitterly, trying to disguise the shaking of her voice. “To fall so easily back into servitude.”

“No, Echo. You misunderstand…”

“The party has been lovely. Give my thanks to the staff,” Echo manages before she turns and flees back into the house.

_ The streets are cold in December, but Echo knows how to keep herself warm. She’s one of the best in the business, after all. _

_ She tilts her head and smiles just so, enticing the rich travelers away from hearth and home for just a few more hours. The other women who share her area of town roll their eyes and go look for cheaper prospects. No one plays the men better than Echo. _

_ But this one is different. Softer. _

_ “Bellamy,” he whispers, taking the time to lay close to her and brush her long curls away from her rose-tinged cheeks. “My name is Bellamy.” _

_ “Echo,” she whispers back, feeling a flicker of warmth pierce the depths of her heart. “Mine is Echo.” _

_ She feels almost human again. _

_ “Come work for me.” _

_ “Excuse me?” She stands on the side of the street in broad daylight, staring up at him. In his grand carriage she can see how truly rich his is. Born of money no doubt. She hates him and every kiss he bought from her. _

_ “Come work for me,” he repeats carefully. Some of the other passersby can hear and look uncomfortable with the exchange. Echo has never had to deal with decorum and politeness. Her job depends on the very opposite. _

_ “I work for myself,” she snaps at him. _

_ Bellamy’s eyes narrow. She doesn’t like them in the light. Hard like flint. _

_ “You will work for me. I can give you everything you’ve never had,” he says slowly. Coldly. “And I can certainly make sure that you never find work of this sort again.” _

_ She hears the threats. She’s been on the streets too long to not know when to back down. When to choose survival. _

_ So she takes his hand and steps into the carriage. The darkness swallows her, blinding her for a few seconds. _

_ “Just stay with me long enough for you to get on your feet,” Bellamy is saying. “To work as an honest woman.” _

_ “Yes, sir,” she says, no matter how much it makes her skin crawl. The flicker of warmth is snuffed out. She will never trust him again. _

Echo doesn’t wait for a carriage. The snow crunches under her feet as she half stumbles, half runs from the Blake estate.

She gave some sort of hurried excuse to Raven and the others before fleeing. Memories assailed her from all sides, forcing her to keep moving. She can feel the anger and the tears building somewhere deep inside, but as long as she runs they won’t spill out.

The night is drawing to a close. She can feel it in the numbness of her feet and she can see it in the slowly lightening skyline.

Flurries of snow continue to fall softly even as the sun begins to rise and Echo finally slows enough for the tears and the feelings to catch up with her.

Shame and humility for how Bellamy treated her all those years ago. Anger for the years that she stayed. Sorrow because despite it all, something inside her actually wanted to believe his apology. Something inside her still wants to kiss him again.

She stumbles again and this time she falls in an undignified heap in the snow. The ugly dress she saved so much to buy is soaked through with icy mud, but she can’t bring herself to care. Bellamy once made her feel like she belonged, even for only one night. Now she has no where.

“Echo!”

She can barely turn her stiff neck to see where the voice is coming from. A fast approaching rider, head bare, barrels down on her.

“Echo!” The rider dismounts and sprints to her side. “Echo, say something.”

Bellamy.

“To hell with you,” she mutters from frozen lips. To her surprise he laughs.

“If it means hearing your voice again, gladly.” His arms are solid and warm as he helps lift her to her feet.

Her vision wavers in and out, but she thinks she can make out tear tracks on his cheeks.

“Bellamy?”

He laughs shakily again and ushers her towards his waiting horse. “We need to get you home. You’re freezing.”

Home. She has no home.

But he turns the horse back towards the estate anyways and she ponders the idea. Home. She knows every nook and cranny anyways. Bellamy’s friends are more her friends now anyways. Could it be her home?

Could he? After everything?

The bed is warm and the blankets are soft, coaxing Echo back to sleep. She is vaguely aware that she’s already woken and helplessly fallen back to sleep several times, so this time she forces her eyelids to remain open.

Sunlight pours in through the long windows on the eastern wall. She recognizes the room. Bellamy’s room.

The thought makes her squirm. But as she shifts under the coverlets to slip out of bed, she realizes she’s not alone.

Bellamy blinks wearily from a chair by her side, smiling in relief.

“You’re awake.”

Echo shivers. “What happened?”

“You… I drove you away.” If she thought his apology on the veranda had been sincere, it paled in comparison to the shame in his voice now. “I should never have pushed myself on you in such an inappropriate fashion. You could have died and it would have been my fault.”

Echo stares at him, mouth slightly agape.

“Listen, I… I care about you,” he continues, words rushing and tumbling over each other. “Maybe too much. I have since the moment I met you. You swept me off my feet and I couldn’t stop thinking about how to make you mine. I let my passion drive me to treat you terribly. Even inviting you back for the party... I had this mad desire to see you ashamed. I wanted you to come crawling back to me.”

He pauses and takes a deep, shaky breath. “I am scum.”

The words rumble through her head, breaking down every carefully constructed wall.

Bellamy firms his jaw and gives her a single nod. “I apologize wholeheartedly for the way I have acted. I don’t expect you to forgive me, Echo. But I do want you to know the truth. I believe I love you, even if I don’t know how to show it. That is the truth and you deserved to know.”

He stands, chair legs screeching abruptly. “You will have the finest care as long as you wish. But you owe me nothing, not even another word. I am truly sorry.”

He all but runs from the room.

Echo lies back against the pillows, letting her mind wander until sleep pulls her back into its embrace.

She spends a week at the Blake estate. Bellamy’s personal physician keeps her under his constant care, but she doesn’t see another glimpse of Bellamy. He seems determined to stay away from her.

She almost wishes he would come back. To make the choice for her.

But the fact that he won’t makes her own all the more clear.

She wanders the halls, chatting with the staff and remembering her love of this house. Her hands smooth across the beautifully carved bannisters and caress the silken drapery. She walks the garden paths, gaze tracing the strong lines of fountains and slender birch trees frozen under winter’s breath.

She thinks of Bellamy and his words. For more than five years, the wound he struck her has festered just under the surface, constantly threatening to boil up and consume her. This is the first time his words have felt like a balm, cooler than the freshly fallen snow. He meant every word. She could leave now and never speak to him again and that would be the end. Or she could let the wound heal completely. Let the scars fade. It would take time, but the idea of being able to belong with him again, to recapture that flicker of warmth...

Forgiveness has never been her strong suit, but maybe it’s time to make a fresh start.

She finds him on the veranda in the early morning hours. The sun has newly risen, sending rosy beams of gold across the snowy tableau.

Echo walks boldly to his side, not acknowledging his start of surprise at her appearance.

“It is beautiful here,” she says softly. Despite her close call in the snow, she still enjoys the bitterly cold breeze against her cheeks. A few stray curls dance against her ears.

Bellamy nods, still seemingly in shock.

Echo takes a deep breath before turning to face him. “I accept your apologies, Mr. Blake,” she says. “And not only that… I forgive you.”

He breathes out sharply, as if he has been holding his breath for the week since he apologized.

“And Bellamy?”

His gaze meets her own, hopeful.

“Yes?”

“I think I would like to care for you too. If you’re willing to wait for me to learn.”

“Forever,” he smiles breathlessly.

She’s home.


End file.
